


Knowledge is Power

by 13atoms (2Atoms)



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Mind Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:34:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24537793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/13atoms
Summary: The Master forced her way into The Doctor’s head, knowing what she'd find had the power to tear you apart from him.
Relationships: Dhawan!Doctor / Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the wonderful folk on discord who beta'd this and gave me feedback! You're all angels.

“Oh!”

Her thick Yorkshire accent dripped with amusement as The Master leant over you, blonde hair losing its perfect coifs from her maniacal running around the room.

Fuck, where were you?

“I see what’s happening.”

Right. Trapped under the control of a Time Lady with something to prove. To your relief, you could just make out The Doctor, conscious but seemingly struggling.

You mentally cursed The Master, as your body ached from the position you were held in. You’d met her by accident, happening upon the same market which specialised in Gallifreyan technology.

‘ _I worried she might have traps set here,’ The Doctor had mused, as you were stunned into compliance by a device The Master wielded like a gun. ‘I’m so sorry.’_

_His hand had reached for yours, but you were unable to grip back, muscles out of your conscious control._

You were held in a field of some kind, unable to move. Even speaking required unfathomable effort. You could barely utter more than a syllable. The room you were locked in seemed _nowhere_ , you couldn’t see natural light nor could you sense any difference from the gravity you were used to.

A space ship? A planet? All that was discernible was that this was a cell of some kind, more restraints scattered around the room, and a heavy door slammed closed.

Only The Master seemed able to open or close it, her hand recognised by the scanner beside the door.

“I’ve been in his head, you know,” she told you. “I know what he’s _hiding_.”

The Master’s heels clacked on the floor as she took steps around the room to where The Doctor was cuffed on the floor, fighting the effects of whatever he’d been drugged with. She hadn’t even bothered with you, but then again The Doctor had put up a more substantial fight.

You were mere collateral.

“I could hypnotise her, if you want.” The Master mused, leaning down to hiss in his face. “Let you take what you _want_.”

“I wouldn’t. Never.”

You frowned in confusion, before taking great efforts to smooth out your face. You couldn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting – it was what she wanted.

“Aw, but you want it so bad!” she mocked. Her squat down to his level made him scowl, lip twitching in a way you’d never seen on your sweet Doctor’s face. She was getting to him. “You’re desperate, lover boy.”

“Stop.”

“Hm, I don’t know. Why don’t I ask your human companion over here?”

She stood, strutted towards you again. The stasis field made it easy to keep your face blank, even as panic took over your body. You couldn’t recoil from her, and she pressed her body close to the bright bars surrounding you.

“He’s awfully lonely, isn’t he?”

“N-no.” You spat out. _He’s got me,_ you longed to say.

Behind her The Doctor was moving, no doubt weaselling his way out of the bond as he was so prone to. You were relieved to see he didn’t seem as dozy as he’d convinced The Master. You just had to keep her talking.

“Sweet. But I think he is. Do you want to know what I saw in his head? What he’s been _dreaming_ about?”

Behind her, The Doctor was finally on his feet. You gave her a scowl.

“Not– ” you cursed the paralysis in your body, as your words cut off. _Not my business_.

With a dramatic, slow turn of her head, The Master followed your eye line. Her face morphed into a grin as she pointed her weapon, fixing it perfectly on The Doctor before she’d even spun to face the Time Lord.

He froze, real fear seeping into his expression, his beautiful eyes wide and glassy.

“Cheeky.” The Master chided.

You wanted to tell him _sorry_ , for giving him away, for being trapped. You could kick yourself for ruining his escape. The Doctor didn’t deserve to die here, because of you.

“I think I owe your human friend here some details,” her hand reached towards you, and you were horrified you couldn’t recoil from her blood-red nails. “Knowledge is power, and all that.”

Her skin was almost on yours when The Doctor moved, and she growled with frustration, powering the weapon up to make him halt.

“You stay out of her head!” He bellowed, “This is between us.”

Laughter. Loud, maniacal laughter.

“Your wandering mind has made her part of it, though!” she told him, “I’m offended, frankly. Another _human_?”

“Please, she’ll leave me.”

What?

“Please, what?” she prompted.

He resisted for just a moment, and you could see the conflict in his eyes. Unprompted, he sank to his knees.

“Please, Master.”

She laughed again, and you felt sick at the sheer horror on The Doctor’s face. Now he was closer, you could see the scuffs and marks on his sweater, what looked like her heel print. Your heart broke for him, kneeling before the woman he used to consider a friend.

You longed to speak, distract her so The Doctor could escape, promise him you were okay. You couldn’t say anything.

“Good.”

A muted scream left your throat as she shot, the barrel of her weapon sending light straight into the centre of his chest. He didn’t shrink, or keel over. A field appeared to mirror your own, holding him on his knees, in position.

The Master was between the pair of you, looking at you for your reaction, before huffing.

A second later, you found yourself able to speak freely, muscles moving above your shoulders.

All you could ask her was:

“Why?”

She chuffed.

“We still have things to still discuss.”

“Please just let us go. We’ve done nothing to you.”

“Wrong.”

The glint in her eye unnerved you, but you held your chin up in defiance. She approached you once again, The Doctor forgotten as he watched wide-eyed, unable to speak.

“He has taken _everything_ from me,” she circled you, “and finally I can take something back.”

Oh, god. You. She meant _you_.

A single red nail brushed your jaw, and your arms ached with the instinct to hit her away.

“Then kill me.”

Free from paralysis, you fought not to sob, the _click, click_ of her heels making your heart beat out a staccato. She could see through your bravado, but you kept it up anyway. You had to.

“Let him go, and then kill me.”

She seemed to think about it. At least, you thought she did, tilting her head and squinting like The Doctor would with a particularly difficult puzzle.

“No. I actually intend to let both of you go. Strangely.”

 _Thank you_ , you wanted to breathe. But you knew better. You suspected a twist. And she provided one, shark-like grin contorting her features.

“He’ll lose you on his own.”

“He won’t.”

She smiled indulgently, and you winced at how blatantly she was _inspecting_ your frozen form.

“Sweet. He will. I’ve seen inside his head.”

You kept quieting, hoping The Doctor, from his spot on the floor, knew you weren’t scared of anything she could tell you. The burning planets, the people he’d killed, you knew about it. Over wine and the fireplace in the library, he’d told you, begging you to still be his friend, to stay.

You’d never rejected him yet.

“I already know about it. About the Time War. The Academy. _Everything_.”

The Master’s wince pleased you, as you brought up their shared history. She was only shaken for an instant, though. That smile returned.

“It’s not the things he’s done, my dear. It’s the things he wants to do.”

You repressed a gasp at her growl, how close her face was to you.

“If I can’t show you,” she shot The Doctor a look, “I’ll tell you.”

For a moment, she staggered away from you, clasping her head. Then, she laughed.

“You don’t get to play at telepathy now, Doctor. I will _destroy_ you.”

“There’s nothing you can say. Let us go, or I’ll…”

Half-hearted. Part of your script. The part of you which desperately wanted to know was taking over, as the futility of your situation set in.

You’d leave when she wanted you to.

“Did you know he leers at you?” she began, scowling. “That water park was a clever choice, I’ll admit. He enjoyed your swimwear. You’d be executed for that kind of indecent exposure on Gallifrey.”

_Oh._

A shiver ran down your spine as you remembered the day, how fun it had been, how the two of you had shared ice creams when he couldn’t choose a flavour, how you’d enjoyed his awkwardness at wearing board shorts. You’d chosen your own swimsuit especially because you thought he might enjoy it.

“Did you know Time Lords don’t sleep much, human?” She stood beside you, watching The Doctor as you did. You tore your eyes away, desperate to spare him the embarrassment. “It’s strange he goes to his bedroom anyway, isn’t it?”

You closed your eyes. You couldn’t bear to watch either of them anymore.

“He thinks about you. Imagines you. Touches himself while he pictures you’re there.”

Her voice was low, a sickening mix of disgust and seductive, and you tried to tune it out.

“He’d like to be on his knees for you instead, wouldn’t you _dear Doctor_. Eating your cunt, grovelling like the disgusting old Time Lord he is. He’s quite good, I’ll give him that.”

You winced, and she laughed.

“He’s never even fucked anyone in this body, and he has dreams about _you_. Your TARDIS must get sick of replacing sticky sheets, Doctor. Is that why you keep her onboard? So you can smell her? Be near her when she’s vulnerable? Sleeping?”

“Enough.” You choked out.

You were sure she could see the flush on your face, feel the second-hand embarrassment you had for him. It was like the relationship between you was crumbling before your eyes, and you couldn’t move your hands to hold it together, to cling to him.

“Not for him, it’s not.” The Master cackled.

“I wonder if you’ve heard him, shouting your name while he gets off. There’s some quite creative fantasies he’s got, you know. Pleasure planets. Sneaking into your room. Tying you up…”

You tuned her out, and the field shocked you. You cried out.

“… fucking you from behind, fucking you on _picnics_ , under the stars, on that hideous console room floor.”

You couldn’t help the arousal you felt when she described it, almost smiling at the idea of a picnic. So very him. Even in a fantasy, he was caring after you.

“Open your eyes,” she growled.

You shook your head, and she grabbed the back of your neck until you opened your eyes in shock. You felt disoriented, dizzy, as you took the room in again.

“Look at him. Feel _disgusted_.”

You couldn’t. You couldn’t look at that gorgeous face, knowing the suffering he was going through. The man never even swore in front of you, and now The Master was baring his soul. You wanted to bite back, tell her she was lying, but you knew it was the truth. Arguing, you would only hurt him more. She would force his fantasies into your mind.

“Look!”

The second you caught sight of him, she released your stasis fields simultaneously, and you crumpled to the floor while The Doctor wound falling onto his stomach. He clambered to his feet almost instantly, rushing to pick you up before hesitating. He didn’t touch you. You struggled to stand without his usual help.

“Oh, dear. He’s gone all shy!” The Master laughed, high and tuneful, and for a moment you thought The Doctor might lunge at her.

Instead, he took slow, deliberate steps, leaning up to speak into her ear. Her shoes made her taller than him, and you could see him trying to stand up to compensate. You hated that it made him insecure.

“I will never forgive you for this.”

With that he turned on his heel, and you ran to keep up, refusing to give The Master the satisfaction of one last glance.

You heard her calling behind you:

“’Bye-e!”

*

The Doctor didn’t stop on the whole journey back through labyrinthine corridors, streets, then the marketplace. You were out of breath once the blue TARDIS doors finally filled your vision, you grabbed his arm to stop him from storming inside.

As he turned to face you, your heart broke. His eyes were red-rimmed, swimming with tears, wet tracks making their way down his face.

“I’ll drop you home, I’m sorry.”

His voice cracked as he pushed his way into the TARDIS, and you quickly closed the doors behind you, rushing to stop him before he started to pilot the ship.

“I don’t want to go.”

He didn’t meet your eyes, hunched over. Another tear traced his cheek, dripping from his jawline, and you wished you could wipe it away without him recoiling from your touch.

“You should. You must feel so betrayed, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not–”

“I’m disgusting,” he sobbed.

You’d never seen him cry like this. Openly heaving for air, face crumpling, out of control. He wouldn’t register a word you said, he was too broken, trapped in his own mind.

You wanted to cry with him.

If he wouldn’t hear you, he’d have to feel you. Your stomach dropped as you took the dive, pulling him close, feeling the wetness of his tears on your lips. His stumble was rough against your hands while you pulled him in, and you knew it would break your heart if he pulled away.

With a shudder you felt him kiss you back, his sobs dying in this throat. You pulled back, eyes opening to see him in shock. You stroked his face.

“Please, don’t be embarrassed. She’d have seen a lot worse in my head.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor had sat on the console room floor for so long, you worried he’d just _broken_. After your kiss he had stared at you for a moment before crumpling, sitting on the ground like a man broken. It was hard not to feel hurt, rejected, but he didn’t say a word.

You tried reasoning with him, telling him it was okay, and he wouldn’t even hear you.

Eventually, you just left.

You’d assumed he’d want a sleep, or some privacy at least, after The Master had rummaged around in his mind, drugged him, tried to humiliate him.

He’d let her succeed.

You knew the embarrassment wouldn’t leave him quickly. He was sensitive, and you suspected deeply lonely. Sometimes he would blush at couples who made out in the street when you were on adventures, fidget at sex scenes in movies, wince if you raised an eyebrow at one of his accidental innuendos. You’d never even seen him dressed down unless the situation demanded it.

The Master had won, somehow, despite it all, and you hated it.

Hours passed as you busied yourself around the TARDIS, and every time you swung back into the console room to check on him, he was still there. Fiddling with the TARDIS’ wiring, or just sat, staring at the ground. You’d napped, eaten, showered, and he still hadn’t left.

Finally you’d had enough. Your footsteps rang as you crossed the floor, the TARDIS humming approvingly to you as you walked towards him. You stroked the console as you passed it, somehow never quite and _always_ understanding her.

“Doctor?”

You crouched opposite the hunched-over Time Lord, and he didn’t react. Pulling his hands from his face, he finally looked up at you. Had _nothing_ changed? He’d kissed you, you’d told him you felt the same!

Perhaps it was naïve, but you had assumed all would be right with the universe.

“You need to talk to me, please.”

“About what?”

His voice cracked, and you couldn’t quite read him. He’d just… closed off.

“Well, do you actually want to take me on a picnic?”

He smiled down at the floor, a little sadly, adjusting the glasses which always sat a tiny bit wonky on his nose.

“We could do that.”

You stood too as he clambered to his feet, barely acknowledging you on his march to the kitchen. You trotted behind him, sitting yourself down at the beaten-up kitchen table as he rummaged around for food. He was so focussed he didn’t even chatter, moving like a robot.

Suddenly, it was like you didn’t even _know_ him.

“Doctor, what’s up?”

“I’m just processing.” He insisted, continuing to prepare food.

You usually loved watching him cook, he was so adept at it, always ignited into endless conversation by the topic of food. It was how he cared for you, how the pair of you reset, recovered, processed the constant traumas you seemed to be thrown into.

He’d smiled across this table at you, and you’d realised you trusted him more than anyone else in the universe.

Now, he fell silent again, the only noise the rustle of tin foil, the occasional _chop_ of a knife.

Desperate to fix the mood, you grabbed a bottle of the spiced red wine you usually shared, slipping it cheekily into the open basket while his back was turned. You smiled to yourself, sitting back down before he noticed it.

Wordlessly, he took the bottle out, set it on the side with a _clunk_.

“Please talk to me.”

You struggled to get the words out, suddenly realising how close you were to tears.

He closed the basket abruptly, hooking it over his arm and striding past you to leave the kitchen. You scrambled to keep up.

“We’re going to a planet called Collins IX, it’s _tiny_ , not technically a planet if you ask certain peoples, but beautiful. Diverse biomes, plenty of native flowers and fauna…”

You tuned him out as the pair of you walked. It was like you didn’t even know him, his familiar pre-planetfall lesson seemed heartless and formulaic. He piloted silently, not even putting the basket down. When the ship wheezed to a halt, he grabbed a blanket the had TARDIS left by the door, and left without looking back. Suddenly alone with her, you wished you could talk to the ship. Ask her what was wrong with him.

When you stepped out into the low-light and fresh air of the planet, he was talking again.

“It’s got a 4 hour day-night cycle. It’s dawn right now, look.”

The sight outside the TARDIS doors was gorgeous, an open meadow at the top of a hill. You had a clear view of the valleys surrounding you, the slopes ahead of you framing the rapidly rising sun. All you could focus on was the shake of The Doctor’s hands as he struggled with the picnic blanket. As soon as you walked to help him fix it, he stopped fussing and sat down.

“The days are so short, it doesn’t even get cold at night. You can experience a whole day and night cycle without needing a bathroom break. It’s amazing.”

All the enthusiasm in his voice was artificial. He wasn’t even watching to see if you were engaged, eagerly waiting for you to ask him questions. His gaze was downturned. You sat beside him in silence while he opened the picnic basket, handing you the fruit and sandwiches he’d brought.

The pair of you ate in silence.

The sky turned from flaring orange to clear blue, and it felt like no time at all before the first hints of deep orange returned to the horizon, sunset bringing darkness. The flowers around you looked beautiful bathed in the last light of the day.

The Doctor watched them like you did, his plate untouched and your food long gone.

You knew the heartbreak that followed him, the centuries of tragedy whenever he opened himself up to another person.

Even with everyone before you, all his hearts had been through, he wanted you.

At least, you thought he had.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Apparently convinced he’d been a convincing actor, he asked what you meant.

“You’re upset with me.”

“No! Not with you.”

“Then talk to me. Properly.”

He lay down, and you tentatively joined him, feeling the softness of the meadow beneath the blanket.

“She really, finally, wanted to destroy me. It’s so unheard of to read someone else’s mind like that, without their agreement. I didn’t think she’d go that low.”

His hands folded over his stomach, playing with the buttons of his coat.

“Please don’t shut me out.”

You felt stupid as soon as you said it. He let the silence stretch on, until you thought you might be trapped there forever, in this _nowhere_ of your friendship, watching time move past quickly in the sky whilst you were frozen.

“I don’t think anyone knows me like you,” he mused.

Constellations had appeared, the clear sky yet another pleasant surprise you were certain he had meticulously planned.

“Not even her?”

You chanced a look at him, to see if he reacted. The Master was a sensitive subject, even with all she told me.

“Not really. She knows my past, the childhood I thought I had. She doesn’t know how I take my tea, or my favourite books. Or that I actually quite like romcoms.”

You smiled. Crying with him over early-2000s cheesy movies was one of your fondest memories, even with all of time and space at your disposal.

A dark room with popcorn, The Doctor, and a movie you’d seen a half-dozen times before was better.

“Even on Gallifrey, you had to relearn people, as they regenerated. She hasn’t known me in a very long time.”

“She knows a bit more about you now,” you poked at him, seeing if he’d bite.

“I wish she didn’t.”

He was so morose, you almost regretted asking.

“Do you wish I didn’t know?”

You tried to hold his hand and he let you, his grip loose.

He stared up at the stars like they might have answers.

“Sort of. I wish you didn’t have to find out like that. She made it sounds so… heartless.”

“I thought it sounded lovely.”

He covered his face with his free hand, still mortified.

“Remind me about the second half of that picnic fantasy?” you teased, and he dropped your hand like you had burned him.

“No.”

You frowned, stretching out your hand. You missed his touch.

“I thought you wanted me back?” Your voice was weak, hurt.

You’d never felt so much younger than him, ignorant and inexperienced and confused and _stupid_. He stared up at the stars, like he needed to study them for the first time. Like he wasn’t breaking your heart, unable to even look you in the face as he did it.

“I’m scared she did something to you. That this isn’t you. I can’t take advantage of that. You’ve just been through a lot and…”

“Is that what she meant by ‘hypnotize’ me?”

He nodded mutely, and you suddenly understood his weirdness around you. His panic.

“She hasn’t done anything to my head, I promise.”

He turned to face you suddenly, his eyes wide under the starlight. You found his hand again, hoping he wouldn’t reject your touch.

“You can’t know that, I’m sorry but, she’s…”

Tugging your hand onto his chest, he brought the two of closer, eye to eye. He was searching your face, looking for whatever it was The Master had supposedly done to you. You wanted to lean across the picnic blanket and kiss him, force him to shut up and stop _worrying_. You knew he’d pull away.

“She let us go so easily and… she knows how to destroy me. Its taboo to mess with someone’s mind but… she would do anything to hurt me. If I found out you couldn’t… consent to me doing… that, I could never forgive myself.”

You unravelled his hand from yours, seeing the confusion in his eyes as you pulled it to your temple.

“Look.”

“I can’t that’s… you’ve already had her hurt you so much I…”

“Just look.”

You had no patience for his stammering, self-sacrifice, his need to _save you_. He freed up his second hand, rolling you onto your back before he cupped your temples.

Then, he hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

Looking up at him, the boyish fear on his face, you nodded. Sometimes it seemed like he was afraid of _himself_ , of what he could do if his self-control faltered. You wrapped a hand around his wrist, rubbing it in comfort.

“Sure.”

“Just… I won’t look at anything you imagine a door in front of. And if you don’t want me somewhere, you can push me back. I’ll go, straight away. I won’t fight.”

“Okay.”

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes with a frown.

Suddenly, you felt the nauseating sensation of being dragged inside your own mind, of him pacing around it. The outside world vanished, leaving you with no senses except for what you could perceive inside of your own head.

He was gentle, leaving you with an almost pleasant feeling as he poked around. You didn’t hide anything, trusting he wouldn’t seek out anything you didn’t want him to see.

You had nothing left to lose.

Suddenly, he was gone.

You didn’t even feel him leave, suddenly becoming aware of the ground beneath you, his hands on your skin. You opened your eyes to see him staring at you, tears filling his eyes. The light from the TARDIS and the stars were all you had, but they were enough.

“See?”

“She didn’t do anything,” he sounded disbelieving, unsteady.

He looked like he was searching your face, and you knew his question.

“I meant it all. It was me, I promise.”

Instead of smiling back at you, he looked sick.

“You said she should kill you,” he muttered. “Instead of me.”

Finally his hands left your face, and you shrugged.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m quite fond of you.” You reached up for his face, stopping him from moving away, and hand on his temple like you might be able to read his mind. “I don’t know if you remember, but I also said that I won’t ever leave you.”

“I couldn’t live with myself if you sacrificed yourself for me,” he whispered. “That’s still leaving me.”

“But I’m still here, and you’re shutting me out.”

He closed his eyes, sighing.

“You have no idea how much it would break me, if she’d done something, and this was all a lie.”

You pulled his face to yours, whispering so close he would be able to feel your breath on his face.

“It’s real.”

You wiped away the tear that finally fell from his lash line. He surged forward to kiss you, awkward, fumbling, desperate.

Just when you were getting used to each other, groaning at his lips on yours, he pulled back. Your faces stayed so close you couldn’t read him, as he whispered to you.

“How can you really want me?”

“You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met.” You confessed. “And you make me really happy.”

You thought back to all the times you had cherished his company. You could have been anywhere. The time ship as irrelevant, his power, it was all irrelevant.

“Whatever the planet, I’m always just glad you’re there with me.”

He kissed you again, and again, cautious of your need to breathe. Finally, you climbed onto him, straddling his hips. You couldn’t help laughing when he looked surprised, pinned down beneath you.

“Now, I believe you wanted to fuck me on a picnic blanket?”

He finally laughed.

“The thought has crossed my mind.”

You hummed, grinding down against him, making him gasp, scandalised.

“Now?”

You rolled your eyes. He hated it when you did that, and his hands found your hips, squeezing at them.

“Yes, now.”

“At least come inside, someone might see.”

“I don’t mind,” you were so drunk on him, you could have been in a midday city centre and not cared.

The Doctor laughed.

“I do.”


	3. Chapter 3

Throwing the blanket and basket aside in the console room, he brought you into his previously-off-limits room, and his fantasies echoed in your head. 

He’d fucked his own hand here, thinking about _you_.

It made you heat up to think about as you took in the space, the bookshelves, the jumpers and dressing gowns strewn messily on the floor. He started to pick them up, apologising, and you giggled at him. Walking up behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, giving him a comforting squeeze before stripping his coat and jumper off.

You spun him to face you, once the layers had been thrown aside, and you could see his nervousness.

“It’s been a while, I mean, my last body didn’t…”

“It’s okay.”

A past self of his would have been far more comfortable with this. From his stories, he used to be quite the flirt. Perhaps he might have already confessed his feelings, in a more open body.

It was funny, hearing him talk about himself like a stranger, mortified at his stories of kissing monarchs and writers. He’d been drunk when you got the ‘virgin queen’ story out of him, and he’d been embarrassed for days after. You still made jokes about it.

“As long as you’re comfortable, we can go slowly,” you promised.

He mumbled thanks, before pulling you back to him, just holding you.

“It sounds like you’ve experimented a fair bit with this body, anyway.”

He buried his face in your neck with a groan, stopping you from removing your shirt. You laughed.

“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

He didn’t have a quip in response. You buried on hand in his hair, tugging lightly.

“Can you really smell me? When I’m in my room?”

“Hm. Sometimes. It’s a different sense thing, pheromones.”

“Shit. I always tried to be quiet, but I never thought about pheromones.”

From his groan into your shoulder, he knew what you were talking about. The Master hadn’t been lying.

As you’d hoped, your boldness brought him out of his embarrassment a little, and he stepped back to watch you strip. In just underwear, you led him to his own bed, pulling him down on top of you.

You unfastened your bra and threw it aside with a little wriggling, and he grinned like a teenager. With a little guidance, his head found your breast, and you groaned encouragement as he slowly gained confidence, sucking at the skin.

“That’s so good,” you praised. “Can I take your shirt off?”

His eyes were glassy as he leant back and removed the buttoned shirt himself, letting you sit up and help with the lowest few buttons. He made quick work of taking off his undershirt too, . You ran your hands over his chest, like you’d been longing to since your trip to the water park all those months ago, and he looked embarrassed at your attention.

The Doctor covered himself a little, and you pressed a kiss to his chest.

“It’s just me,” you promised.

“Exactly!”

You smiled.

“You’re sure this is okay?”

“Yep! All good. Great.”

“You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want it.”

You looked up at him, trying to spot any regret or concern in his face.

“I want this.”

The firmness of his tone made you smile, and you hugged him around his waist. His arms reached around your bare torso, returning the hug even as you were too low to cuddle properly.

“Come lie down,” you encouraged, mumbling against his chest.

He let you go and lay beside you on the silky sheets. At the same level, you could see the lust on his face. You leant forward, hoping to bruise his parted lips, hoping to reassure him.

Your lips worked their way down his jaw, down his neck, not quite leaving marks but rough nonetheless.

“This good?”

“Really good,” he confirmed.

Annoyingly coherent.

When you reached the fastening of his trousers you looked up for permission, and he undid them himself, raising his hips so you could pull the clothing off him.

The Doctor left his boxers in place, so you worked over them. You first pressed your lips along his waistband, and then followed the line of his hip inwards, frustratingly light over the fabric of his underwear. You felt him shudder as you got close to the bulge of his cock, but you refused to give him any friction.

Human enough, and certainly aroused, if earth biology was anything to go by.

“Good?”

He grunted in reply. Much better.

“Tell me.”

“So good,” he groaned.

“You want more?”

The Doctor nodded, fingers clutching at his thighs, and you let your mouth rest on his cock. He grunted at how your lips moved as you hummed, a wet spot forming on the fabric from your spit.

“Tell me, Doctor.”

“Please.”

You sat up, removing the heat of your mouth from him, and he groaned.

“You’re teasing me,” he decided, moving his arms to frame his head, resting back on them.

“Am I?”

You removed your underwear, throwing them, wet, beside his elbow. He could smell them, you were sure.

He finally shoved his boxers down his thighs, and you helped him remove them completely, dipping your mouth dangerously close to his tip. You caught him craning his head to watch.

Even with both of you now naked, The Doctor was still frustratingly uninvolved. Lust painted his features, but he barely moved. It was hard not to feel sensitive, unwanted. You moved up to straddle his hips, wishing he’d give you friction, attention, anything.

Your fingers snaked down your own torso, settling between your own legs, preparing yourself. He watched fervently, and you were sure he could feel your wetness on his stomach where you straddled him. You let your head roll forwards as you worked your clit, slid two fingers into yourself and pumped. You curled forward with a moan, and suddenly there were hands on you.

Like a man possessed The Doctor had finally jumped into action. You wound up on your back on the bed, in his place, as he tugged your hips up his thighs with a strength you often forgot he possessed.

At your noise of surprise, he pressed a finger inside of you.

“Muscle memory coming back?” you teased.

He raised an eyebrow at you, giving you a cheeky smile usually reserved for just before running for your lives.

“Something like that.”

With no more teasing, no more foreplay, he pushed into you. You hissed. Instantly, one hand reached for yours.

“Sorry. Are you okay?”

You wanted to cry at him _holding your hand_ while he was halfway inside of you, to tell him he was the sweetest time travelling alien in the universe.

“I’m okay,” you promised.

Two fingers fumbled over your clit for a moment, pleasure outweighing the pressure of him inside you until you were relaxed enough to pull at his hand, trying to convince him to thrust into you.

“I didn’t meant to freeze, I just wanted you to have control, and I –”

“Fuck me, please.”

He held your hips up to his as he stood, thrusting in an out of you, the headrush from the angle making everything more intense. He was _vocal,_ grunting, moaning, and you could savour those noises forever.

Praise helped, too. With every confession, every ‘oh my god, Doctor!’ he would whine, fucking deeper and harder inside of you. You tightened around him, hands on your own breasts, and he could barely watch for longer than a second, so overwhelmed.

You saw the clench of his jaw, how he was struggling to keep his pace. He groaned, opening his eyes, and you smiled indulgently at his desperation.

“I’m close – ”

“It’s okay,” you encouraged.

For a moment he fought it, muscles clenching and hands about to bruise your thighs from their tight grip, before coming inside you with a gasp. He held himself deep inside you, primal and needy, as he climaxed. The Doctor shuddered groaning your name.

While his eyes were screwed shut, you reached for where the two of you were conjoined, slipping over your clit. You tightened around him from the pleasure of it, and he suddenly pulled out of you, pushing your hand away.

You whined, wanting to finish, watching in bafflement as he knelt on the ground. You helped him drag you to the edge of the bed, so his mouth could cover your clit.

While you were filled with his cum, he worked you with his tongue until you couldn’t do anything but scream his name. When you finally came, overwhelmed and hips cradled in his hands, you kicked him away. He laughed and acquiesced, leaning back with the gentle foot on his shoulder, giving you space while you recovered. He licked his lips clean and climbed up the bed to kiss you.

While you were still dazed, he grabbed pillows for the pair of you, making you comfortable in your spot in the middle of the sheets, both blissed out.

His head fell to the pillow mirroring you, and you couldn’t help laughing at the sated grin on his face. His eyes started to close, and you brushed the sweat-damp hair off his forehead.

“I thought you don’t sleep?”

“Not much.”

“Tired you out?” you teased.

“I could go again.”

Even as he spoke, you could see him drifting off, and he reached around you, pulling you close.

“I need to get up,” you murmured.

“No.”

“Doctor…” you laughed at him, even as you tried to roll away.

“Stay.”

“I’ll be back, I just need to clean up,” you promised, starting to wriggle free of his arm.

Already half-asleep, he grumbled a little, and let you go.

Once you’d managed to find his en suite, you caught yourself staring in the mirror for far too long, scrutinising how exactly you’d wound up here. Even this part of the TARDIS felt off-limits for so long, _he_ had felt off limits for so long. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what had happened, how all of your flirting and pushing at that barrier between you had been unsuccessful, and suddenly the floodgates had opened.

An hour ago, he’d refused to talk to you. Now he’d been inside of you.

Suddenly, you remembered: The Master had been messing with his head. Far more than yours.

Oh, god.

He’d been so scared of violating your boundaries. That you might not be in your right mind. You hadn’t even thought about the other way around.

You’d assumed he was fine.

Nakedness suddenly felt like being far too exposed. Guilt stabbed at you as you found a dressing gown on the back of his door, so obviously his - surprisingly soft blue flannel. It felt like a violation to even wear it, but you had nothing else. You had to take some bizarre electrical components out of the pockets, for fear they might stab you in the leg. It swamped you a little, but you hugged the fabric tight around yourself, hoping it might protect you from what was to come.

With a deep breath, you opened the bathroom door.

When you got back he was sat up in bed, a half-drunk flask of water in hand. He passed it to you as you sat, longingly glancing at the robe you’d put on. You drank, before passing it back to him, sitting a few couple of feet from him, your ankles crossed.

Time Lord modesty was starting to kick in again, and you could sense his discomfort at being the only one naked.

“I’m sorry I… finished before you. I don’t know what happened I– ”

He cut himself off, his body starting to curl in a little. Defensive.

“Can’t be helped. You more than made up for it.”

You felt a little oversensitive even now. He really did work wonders with his tongue, even if he wasn’t talking you out of a life or death situation.

“Good!”

When his smile didn’t meet his eyes, you felt your worst fears coming true.

“Doctor, I know you checked my mind but,” you sighed.

You didn’t want to say the words. That would make it all real.

“Did you check if she’d done something to you?”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I just realised that she was in your head, and you did seem a bit hesitant at first,” you took a deep breath. “Did she make you… do this?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d describe the look on his face as heartbreak.

“She didn’t do anything to affect my head.”

You searched his eyes for anything amiss, any sign you were being tricked, or he was out of his own control.

“Can you really be sure?”

Hurt flashed across his face, in the downturn of his lips and the line between his eyebrows. Those pretty eyes, which you had longed to stare into for so long, revealed nothing to you but pain.

“Yes.”

He grabbed a blanket from under the bed, pulling it over his hips. You wanted to kiss away the insecurity he felt, but fear held you back.

Perhaps this was The Master’s plan. Maybe he would suddenly snap back to himself, and never speak to you again.

“This decision was all my own, I swear.”

When he leant forward to kiss you again you froze, torn by indecision. At your stillness, he pulled away again.

“This isn’t what I wanted,” he mumbled. “I wanted to give you romance and passion and it would be perfect, and its _ruined_.”

“Nothing’s ‘ruined’–”

“It is! You don’t even believe I wanted to make love to you, and I didn’t do it right, I…”

Finally the relief set in, that he was genuinely himself. Malfunctioning a little from guilt, reeling from the events of the last day, but _him._

“You did everything right, I’m sorry I even asked, I should have believed you.”

“No, it makes sense. I’ve been so useless in the past.”

He took pause for a moment, just looking at you. You leant in closer to kiss him, chaste and awkward, but reciprocated. You jumped to reassure him:

“Maybe we were both a bit useless. And while you’re still panicking about it, that sex was _good_.”

Something inside you awoke as he exhaled a laugh. You hoped you’d get to see what he considered _good_ sex, if he was disappointed.

“That was our first date, and I was so in my head, we barely even talked.”

You wanted to hug him, shake sense back into him, and kiss him all at once.

“First date?”

Those big brown eyes looked so much younger than they had any right to be, shocked and tinged with sadness.

“Oh, I’m an idiot. You didn’t even know it was a date!”

“That’s not– ”

“I’ve been saving that planet for you since we met, in case I ever got the courage up to, you know, take you. I thought you’d love it. Sorry.”

Sometimes, you’d see self-hatred brewing in him like a storm. Now you knew there was something worse than helplessly watching: feeling like the one who had caused it.

His tone was dismissive, defeated.

“Its okay! I didn’t want to assume anything, and you were so out of it…” you reassured him.

He groaned.

“I get pretty overwhelmed. Sometimes. I’m not very good at _feelings_ , or so I’ve been told. I’m sorry I messed it up.”

“Doctor, we’re in a time machine. You can take me on a million first dates, three in a day if you want.”

His smile put your heart at ease. You reached across to cup his face, letting the robe fall open. His gaze only wavered from your face for a second, but you still caught yourself laughing.

“Would you do that?”

“I can’t think of anything I want to do more.”

You were confused as he rolled away, fumbling in his bedside table, returning with a beaten up old notebook. It was a mix of the circles you recognised as his native tongue and English, all scribbled in his elegant. He let you flip through the pages, through scratched drawings of cities and horizons, with short descriptions of places.

It must have taken him forever, hours of research, but you could spot the theme. These weren’t adventures, problems to be solved. They were all beautiful, labelled with activities to do there, things to see, little comments like ‘remember: cold’.

Every few pages, you saw your name. The odd place was scribbled out, somewhere you recognised. Finally, he turned the page to one very particular drawing. ‘Collins IX’ was written amongst the circular Gallifreyan, a near-perfect hastily sketched replica of the view from your picnic spot.

He found a pen and drew a rough line through the whole page.

“Pick another one, we’ll do it properly this time.”


End file.
